


I'm Not Me Without You

by carryaworld



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, M/M, Rated T for swearing, and then it becomes fluffy, basically what if they weren't childhood friends, it's vaguely alluded to, just a lil, the boys in university, they're college boys okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-19 13:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16535180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryaworld/pseuds/carryaworld
Summary: Over the course of time, souls get linked and then reborn with each other over and over again. These souls weave so closely together that they’re twined for all of eternity. Each rebirth follows a pattern inevitably to a conclusion, nearly without fail. Of course, the universe isn’t perfect.OR: The universe makes an oopsie and Iwaizumi and Oikawa don’t meet as children like they’re supposed to. A few things go awry.





	1. We're Just A Little Lost

**Author's Note:**

> *crashes into the haikyuu!! fandom years late with a starbucks* so yeah I'm real late to this party but I love these dumb boys and this fic possessed my soul. This fic is complete, and I'll post the other 3 parts over the next three days, enjoy this piece of my literal being.

Iwaizumi Hajime has always felt a little empty. There’s a void inside him, one that in his nearly nineteen years of life he hasn’t quite managed to fill. No matter what he tries, something or someone is always missing. He’s resigned himself to it.

 

“Earth to Iwaizumi!” someone shouts in his ear.

 

Hajime stumbles forward a step, arms loaded with boxes. “Hanamaki I swear to god,” he growls, twisting around to shoot his best friend a death glare.

 

They’re in the midst of moving into their new apartment, and Hajime has minimal patience for Hanamaki’s antics. It’s enough stress that they’re about to start university so far from home without the added threat of nearly falling down a flight of stairs.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hanamaki complains as Hajime pushes through the doorway and sets his load of stuff down. “You were totally spaced out.”

 

Hajime grunts in response. He doesn’t have the energy to get into a discussion with Hanamaki about this. This entire move has sapped the life out of the both of them, and they still have to show their faces for an orientation tomorrow. It’s not an exciting prospect.

 

“That’s the last of it I think,” Hanamaki says when he realizes he’s not going to get anything else out of Hajime. “Do you wanna order takeout for dinner? We can do a grocery run tomorrow after all that mandatory crap.”

 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Hajime digs his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah that’s fine. Pick whatever you want, I’m going to give my mom a quick call.”

 

Hanamaki grins. “There’s a reason I like you.”

 

Hajime rolls his eyes and wanders out into the hallway, phone tucked against his ear.

 

_“Hajime! Are you and Hanamaki-kun all settled now?”_

 

“If by settled you mean all the boxes are in the apartment,” he says dryly, lips curling upwards a little in response to his mother’s tinkling laugh.

 

_“Please at least make an effort to unpack, hmm?”_

“We’ll try, there’s a whole bunch of stuff we have to attend before classes start so it might take a while,” Hajime says, shrugging even though she can’t see him doing so.

 

_“I wish you hadn’t chosen to go all the way to Tokyo,” she sighs. “Whatever it is you’re looking for Hajime, I hope you find it.”_

 

“Yeah, me too. I should make sure Hanamaki isn’t ordering me something awful for dinner. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he excuses himself before she can wax poetic to him.

 

He loves his mother, he really does, but she worries far too much. Hajime is grown now, and ready to figure things out on his own.

 

_“Okay, tell him I said hello. I love you,”_

 

“Love you too.”

 

Hanamaki is sitting cross-legged amongst the boxes when Hajime steps back inside. “I ordered a mix of stuff, but we should definitely grocery shop tomorrow.”

 

Hajime sinks down onto the floor next to him, peering at all the boxes that litter their small, two-bedroom apartment. “We really did this, huh?”

 

The room is quiet as Hanamaki studies his best friend. They’ve become close in the three years since they met through their high school club volleyball team. Close enough that he can tell when Hajime is feeling that ‘something missing’ that he described to Hanamaki once when they both were feeling a little vulnerable.

 

Hanamaki reaches over and gives him a light shove. “Hell yeah we did! Don’t make that gloomy face, we get to play on one of the best university teams there is!”

 

A reluctant smile pulls at Hajime’s mouth as he takes in his friend. Sometimes he swears his vision flickers and there’s a dark-haired man with sleepy eyes right beside Hanamaki. It’s always a trick of the light though. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

 

“I hope you’re ready to kick some ass,” Hajime says, letting go of his mood.

 

“Aye-aye, captain!”

 

**

 

“Oikawa, you cannot paper our whole apartment in alien posters.”

 

“But Mattsunnnnnn,” Oikawa whines. “They’re really cool.”

 

“Yeah, if we were like, seven,” Matsukawa deadpans. “You can put them up in your room, but not in the living room.”

 

Oikawa Tooru is not one to back down from a challenge. He crosses his arms over his chest, and already Matsukawa knows he’s in for a major headache.

 

“How about we organize the kitchen stuff,” Matsukawa tries to distract him. “I want to be able to find everything tomorrow.”

 

Oikawa pouts. “You can put that stuff away, I want to decorate.”

 

Matsukawa takes several deep, slow breaths. He knew exactly what he’d signed up for when he agreed to room with his high school best friend, but there are still some moments where he questions the sanity of that decision. In the end, he decides that it’s not worth fighting over. Oikawa would make a mess of the kitchen out of spite if he tried to force him. It’s better if Matsukawa just does it himself.

 

“Fine, go unpack your room then. Don’t complain when you make dinner later and can’t find what you need,” Matsukawa tells him.

 

Oikawa whines but mercifully retreats to his own room. Anything that isn’t space themed in his room is a deep, emerald green. It’s his favorite color and has been for as long as he can remember. When asked, however, he can’t pin down exactly why that is. The answer sits on the tip of his tongue, but he can never make it leave his mouth.

 

He sorts through his clothes for a few minutes before throwing himself down on his messily made bed. Tomorrow is a new start, something he’s been itching for.

 

Oikawa has never had trouble getting people to like him. His attitude and his looks make them flock to him like flies to honey, and he basks in the attention. But it’s all superficial. Other than Matsukawa, he hasn’t managed to connect with anyone on a deeper level in longer than he cares to remember.

 

He can’t bring himself to put himself out there in such a way to facilitate those things. Emotional vulnerability is something he stopped allowing himself as soon as he realized he could get hurt.

 

University will be different, he prays it will be different. Oikawa doesn’t know how much longer he can keep faking his way through everything but volleyball.

 

**

 

Hajime likes to work out his stress on the court, which is why after all the hassle of orientation and scheduling his classes, he’s in the gym slamming a volleyball over the net. Hanamaki had declined to come, citing that if the coach was going to give them a week to settle in, he was going to make the best of it.

 

That’s on him. Hajime takes measured breaths and lets himself get so lost in the motions that he is dead to the world.

 

Outside the gym, Oikawa is having a heated phone conversation with Matsukawa.

 

_“Oikawa... Is that volleyball I hear in the background? Coach told us to take it easy this week!”_

Oikawa hurriedly takes a few steps away from the door. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mattsun. You’re confused because of my beautiful voice.”

 

_“You’re really pushing it right now.”_

 

“Oh! That’s my mother calling, better go! I’ll see you later Mattsun!” he chirps into the phone, hanging up before Matsukawa can get a word in edgewise.

 

It’s not like Matsukawa has ever been able to stop him from doing anything anyway. He just picks up the pieces of whatever Oikawa destroys along the way.

 

Oikawa shoves his phone into his pocket and pushes the door to the gym open, only to stop and stare. He knew from the noises that someone was already here, but this was definitely not what he expected.

 

The man doesn’t even turn when Oikawa steps into the gym, still flat out gaping. He’s practicing serves, and good lord. He has to be several centimeters shorter than Oikawa but with significantly more visible muscle.

 

“Yahooo!” he calls before something else stupid can find its way out of his mouth.

 

The man pauses just as he’s about to toss up for another serve and turns a startled look Oikawa’s way.

  
“Uh, hey?”

 

That’s good enough of a greeting for Oikawa, who strides over with his gym bag still over his shoulder.

 

“Are you on the volleyball team? I could totally give you some pointers on your serves,” Oikawa says coyly.

 

Whatever vague sense of friendliness that had existed on the stranger’s face vanishes.

 

“I am, but I’m fine on my own, thanks,” he says coolly.

 

Oikawa flaps a hand at him. “Nonsense! I’m on the team too, it only makes sense for me to help. I’m Oikawa Tooru, by the way.”

 

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” Hajime says reluctantly.

 

He’d really like to ignore this tool and go back to what he was doing, but there’s no sense in alienating a teammate even before practices begin. Hajime doesn’t make it easy for him, however, and makes no effort to continue the conversation.

 

“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa repeats, rolling the name around on his tongue to test the feel of it.

 

For a moment something in the air shifts, stealing Hajime’s breath away. And then, Oikawa ruins whatever strange thing that had been brewing with his obnoxious loud mouth.

 

“Iwa-chan, what position do you play? I’m a setter!”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Hajime growls, tightening his grip on the volleyball. He kind of wants to punch this guy in a bad way. “Wing spiker. I was my high school team’s ace.”

 

Damn, he definitely can’t afford to make enemies of this annoying idiot. Not if he ever wants another ball tossed to him.

 

“But Iwa-chan is such a cute nickname,” Oikawa whines. “You should be grateful I was so nice to think of it for you.”

 

Hajime’s eyes threaten to roll back in his head. “No.”

 

“That’s no way for an ace to talk to his setter!” Oikawa chides, his voice still holding that whiny quality that makes a vein in Hajime’s temple pulse.

 

“Suddenly I’ve remembered I have a prior engagement,” Hajime says flatly, and collects his gym bag while Oikawa chases after him.

 

“You’re not going to stay and hit my tosses?”

 

He’s like a puppy. Or an overgrown child. Hajime can’t decide which is worse.

 

“Nope. Goodbye Oikawa.”

 

Oikawa stares at his retreating back. He can’t remember the last time he failed to charm someone on the first go. Lower lip caught between his teeth, he turns his attention toward the task at hand. Charming the pants off of Iwaizumi Hajime would have to wait until later, and oh boy will he knock him dead.

 

**

 

“You’re home early,” Hanamaki comments from where he’s sprawled on the couch, shamelessly watching cooking shows.

 

“I met one of our teammates,” Hajime says shortly.

  
Hanamaki’s eyebrows go up, and finally his full attention comes to rest on Hajime, who scowls.

 

“Oh? How is he?”

 

The scowl deepens. “Annoying as hell.”

 

Hanamaki, because he’s an asshole, bursts out laughing. “Iwaizumi, please don’t tell me you made an enemy on the first day.”

 

“I didn’t make an enemy,” Hajime protests. “I was as polite as the situation warranted.”

 

“So translation: you didn’t outright tell him to go fuck himself, but you were still your blunt self?” Hanamaki smirks.

 

Hajime hurtles the volleyball at him, and his friend squeals as he tumbles off the couch to avoid taking it to the face.

 

“I’ll get you back for that,” Hanamaki complains.

 

Hajime snorts. “Trust me, you’ll understand when you meet him.”

 

Hanamaki doesn’t look convinced, but it’s an effective end to the conversation and Hajime needs a shower in a bad way. By the time he climbs into bed, his mind is filled with all the school related things he needs to accomplish tomorrow, and Oikawa is mostly forgotten.

 

He does, however, dream of warm brown eyes and a smile that haunts him into waking hours.

 

**

 

Oikawa leans in close to Matsukawa as they circle up for their first practice. “That’s him,” he hisses, peeking at Iwaizumi over Matsukawa’s shoulder.

 

“What, short beef with green eyes is the one doesn’t like you?” Matsukawa says distractedly. He’s not actually looking at Iwaizumi, but instead at the man beside him. “The real question is, who’s his friend?”

 

“Mattsun, you’re not helping,” Oikawa complains.

 

Matsukawa catches the eye of the friend and gives a playful smile. A dark eyebrow shoots up and then he gets a mischievous smirk in return. Excellent.

 

“Sorry Oikawa, but I’m now officially best friends with your nemesis’ friend, so you’re gonna have to live with it,” Matsukawa says cheerfully.

 

“How are you best friends with him, you haven’t even talked to him!”

 

Ignoring Oikawa’s complaining is almost as natural as breathing at this point. The moment the huddle breaks up and they go to set up the nets, Matsukawa makes a beeline for his new friend.

 

“Matsukawa Issei, nice to meet you,” he smirks.

 

“Hanamaki Takahiro. Are you friends with that guy? Iwaizumi had a lot to say about him the other night,” Hanamaki returns.

 

“Who, Oikawa? Yeah. He’s annoyed that Iwaizumi doesn’t like him.”

 

Their eyes meet and understanding passes between them. This opportunity to mess with both their friends is too good to pass up.

 

“Best friends?” Hanamaki asks, eyes gleaming.

 

“Best friends.” Matsukawa confirms.

 

“Oi, Hanamaki, come help me with the net,” Iwaizumi hollers across the gym.

 

Hanamaki salutes Matsukawa before trotting off to help. Matsukawa rounds up Oikawa, who is disgruntled that he’d been soon cruelly abandoned.

 

“What are you up to?” Iwaizumi asks suspiciously as they set the net up.

 

Hanamaki’s face is all innocence. “Me? Nothing. Just trying to make friends on the team. You should give it a try.”

 

“Oh shut it,” Iwaizumi grumbles, and they spend the rest of practice learning how to move with a completely new set of teammates.

 

At least the universe is merciful, and Oikawa is too busy making nice with the rest of the team to hound Iwaizumi. For now.

 

**

 

“Iwa-channnnnnn! How am I supposed to give you a good toss if you won’t talk to me about it.”

 

Oh god why. Oikawa has been harassing Hajime all week to give him specifics on how he likes his tosses. For Hajime and Hanamaki alike, this is a strange experience. Hajime hasn’t worked with such a talented setter since Kageyama in junior high, and certainly isn’t used to this level of accuracy.

 

“I told you, they’re fine Oikawa,” he answers with all the patience he can muster.

 

Both Hanamaki and Matsukawa are snickering behind their hands. The pair of them are thick as thieves, and how they became such fast friends is beyond Hajime. They look natural together though, and he can’t help but feel like a puzzle piece has clicked together.

 

“They’re fine, sure, but they could be great. I’m not the best setter just because of my good looks and amazing personality, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa persists.

 

What a headache.

 

“Yeah Iwaizumi, give the man what he wants,” Hanamaki taunts.

 

Hajime glares at him. “I know where you sleep,” he says flatly.

 

Hanamaki just grins, and even the rest of the team seems amused by the bickering. Hajime hates all of them.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” he grits out. “A little higher and not so close to the net. Happy now?”

 

Oikawa smiles, slow and ominous. The hair on the back of Hajime’s neck stands up.

 

“Of course, Iwa-chan. I want our team to win, and they can’t do that if you’re not hitting well,” he says sweetly.

 

Hajime sees red. There’s been nothing wrong with his spikes, he’s been hitting as well as he always does.

 

“You’re the worst,” he tells Oikawa after several quick breaths to cool his temper. It’s the mildest thing he can think of that still conveys his incredible annoyance.

 

“So mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa huffs.

 

Hanamaki wisely sees this as a good time to step in and starts relaying his toss preferences to Oikawa as a distraction.

 

**

 

Hajime swears he must be cursed, because somehow Oikawa worms his way into every aspect of his life. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are inseparable, and seeing as Oikawa rooms with Matsukawa, he’s often tagging along.

 

“You know, he’s really not that bad,” Hanamaki says over lunch.

 

Beside him, Matsukawa nods into his food. Oikawa is off collecting his own food, and probably flirting with the servers.

 

They both get a blank stare from Hajime. “Were you not just complaining about some chick he brought home last weekend?” he says directly to Matsukawa.

 

Matsukawa winces. Hanamaki, who seems to be more on Matsukawa’s side than Hajime’s these days, cuts in smoothly.

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to do with volleyball. He’s the best setter I’ve seen that’s not Kageyama.”

 

“Please never tell him that, and never breathe Kageyama’s name in his general vicinity,” Matsukawa says fervently.

 

 Hajime rolls his eyes. “You were saying?”

 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki exchange a glance. They perfected that look in a month and it blows Hajime’s mind.

 

“Oikawa’s always been a little… different. He doesn’t have a lot of friends,” Matsukawa says quietly, suddenly serious.

 

He can’t help it, Hajime scoffs as he thinks about all the people who are constantly flocking around Oikawa.

 

The noise Matsukawa makes is long suffering. “I’m serious, Iwaizumi.”

 

Hajime relents, eyeing Oikawa where he talks with a cluster of girls on the other side of the room. “Okay so assuming you’re right,” he humors Matsukawa. “What does that have to do with me?”

 

All he gets is a shrug. “I don’t really know. Just call it a hunch man.”

 

They shift topics back to volleyball as Oikawa finally arrives at the table and slumps down next to Hajime. He does that often: sits next to Hajime or stands, occupying that space and making Hajime a little crazy.

  
There’s a moment where he catalogues the fact that having Oikawa at his side feels natural, and he promptly throws it out the window.

 

“Iwa-chan should let me have his milk bread,” Oikawa wheedles.

 

Hajime doesn’t particularly enjoy milk bread, but there’s no way he’s going cave and let Oikawa have his way. “No, Trashykawa, you have your own lunch.”

 

“Trashykawa? So rude, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sulks, drawing laughter out of the duo sitting across from them.

 

“I’m rude, your personality is awful, we all have to live with these things,” Hajime says nonchalantly, and it’s worth dealing with the sulking the rest of the day just to get the jab in.

 

**

 

“What happened to that girl?” Matsukawa asks on a rare night where Oikawa is not in the gym for a late practice, and they’re both working on homework.

 

Despite Iwaizumi’s taunts, Oikawa is actually a decent student.

 

“Ah, we didn’t see eye to eye,” Oikawa says glibly, eyes trained on the proposal he needs to have ready for his business class tomorrow.

 

“Didn’t see eye to eye,” Matsukawa repeats doubtfully.

 

“Mattsun, are you implying that I’m lying?”

 

The words are spoken casually, but Matsukawa finally tears his eyes from his coding as he senses the beginnings of an argument.

 

“No,” Matsukawa says carefully.

 

They’ve had this conversation enough times that Matsukawa knows roughly where the landmines are. If he says the wrong thing, Oikawa will fall back onto those godawful coping mechanisms of his.

 

“I just want you to be happy, Oikawa. That’s all,” is what he finally decides on.

 

“I am happy,” Oikawa says stubbornly, fingers clicking away with far more aggression than is necessary.

 

It rings false in the homeliness of their shared apartment. Matsukawa sighs.

 

“Are you at least happy with volleyball? You’re easily going to be the starting setter, no contest,” Matsukawa offers.

 

Oikawa purses his lips. “We could always be better, but Iwa-chan is a good ace.”

 

“I think that’s the closest I’ve ever heard you be to satisfied,” Matsukawa hums.

 

“Maybe, Mattsun. Maybe.”


	2. Take My Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mentions of alcohol, and Matsukawa and Iwaizumi being good, responsible friends.

“Good practice today boys. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, you’ve really managed to sync up your motions. Keep up the excellent work,” the coach intones during their post practice huddle.

 

It really was a good practice. The team is coming together and getting comfortable with each other at last.

 

Oikawa throws an arm around Hajime’s shoulder and chirps, “Did you hear that Iwa-chan? We’re a good pair!”

 

For once, Hajime lets Oikawa hang off of him. He’s tired, but the good kind of tired that comes from doing something well. He can’t argue with Oikawa because they really do work well together on the court. Oikawa puts the ball exactly where Hajime wants it without even having to think about it.

 

He’s never had a setter do that for him; never felt like the setter is almost reading his mind to know where to give him the ball. Hajime dares say that he likes it and likes having Oikawa as his setter.

 

“Shut up, coach is still talking,” he hisses.

 

Oikawa, shocked that Hajime didn’t try and deny it, actually does shut up. Until they get into the locker room, that is.

 

“Iwa-chan, I can’t believe you actually think we work well together,” Oikawa says dramatically.

 

On Hajime’s other side, Hanamaki snorts. The rest of the team, used to Oikawa’s excessive displays, ignores them.

 

“Why is that such a surprise, Trashykawa?” Hajime grumbles, using his already sweaty t-shirt to wipe his face off. “You’re a good setter.”

 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he instantly regrets it. Oikawa squeals like he’s won the lottery and Matsukawa claps his hands over his ears to block out the sound.

 

“Iwa-chan thinks I’m a good setter!” he yells loud enough to make everyone in the locker room cringe.

 

“Nope, screw that. I take it back. Your personality truly is trash.”

 

“Iwa-channnnn.” And there’s the whining. Oikawa could be an Olympic level complainer if he wanted to.

 

Hajime struggles to change quicker and bolts out of the locker room, Oikawa’s whining and the terror duo’s laugher chasing after him.

 

**

 

Hajime is not a party person, but he agreed to attend just one this because Hanamaki whipped out the puppy dog eyes.

 

He’s also not a big drinker so he floats through the party, surviving the small talk and making sure his friends aren’t dying. The night is going fine until Matsukawa spots Oikawa cozying up to a sketchy looking dude.

 

“I only get involved when I think he’s in trouble,” Matsukawa says darkly, sizing up the man in question.

 

“I don’t like the look of that guy,” Hanamaki agrees.

 

Matsukawa sets his drink down and weaves through the crowd to where Oikawa is. Hajime and Hanamaki watch the argument commence through hand gestures, and then Matsukawa returns in a huff.

 

“He refuses to come with us, but he’s too drunk to make good decisions,” Matsukawa frets.

 

Hanamaki drops a comforting hand on Matsukawa’s shoulder and then turns the puppy dog eyes on Hajime for a second time. Hajime groans.

 

He really doesn’t want to be caught up in Oikawa’s drama, but he’s not an asshole. Oikawa is his teammate, even if the term ‘friend’ comes a little reluctantly. And teammates don’t leave other teammates in bad situations.

 

“Alright, but dinner is on you guys next time.”

 

Matsukawa nods eagerly, eyes too bright from the alcohol. Hanamaki purses his lips. Well, now or never then. Hajime shoves his way through the crowd, grimacing at the stench of sweat and alcohol. God, he hates parties.

 

“Oikawa,” he says, tapping on the man in question’s shoulder. “It’s time to go.”

 

“Iwa-chan!” is the immediate response, though it’s slightly slurred.

 

The stranger leers at Hajime when Oikawa twists around, curling a hand around Oikawa’s hip. “Get your own.”

 

Hajime’s eyes narrow. “I would appreciate it if you would take your hands off of my friend.”

 

Oikawa is blearily trying to focus and grabs a handful of Hajime’s shirt when he abruptly sways. “Iwa-chan, what are you doing?” he whines.

 

“I’m taking you home before Matsukawa has a conniption,” Hajime says without breaking eye contact with the slimy individual who looks like he wants to eat Oikawa.

 

“But I don’t want to goooooooo,” Oikawa slurs.

 

Hajime has had enough. He peels the stranger’s hand off and drops into a half-squat, tipping Oikawa over his shoulder before he can protest.

 

“Don’t throw up on me,” he warns a wailing Oikawa.

 

A shocked looking Matsukawa and a smug Hanamaki wait by the door, and together the four of them duck out into the night.

 

“You’re my hero,” Matsukawa says will all the sincerity of those who are drunk.

 

Hanamaki openly snickers.

 

Hajime ignores the both of them as they link arms to stagger together, and when he thinks they’re a safe distance from the party, he sets Oikawa down.

 

Oikawa lists dangerously as he gets his feet under him, and Hajime anchors him with a hand on each shoulder.

  
“Iwa-chan is so mean,” he mumbles, eyes barely open.

 

“Iwa-chan doesn’t want you to end up dead in an alley,” Hajime retorts.

 

Why he bothers arguing with drunk Oikawa is a mystery. Oikawa squints up at him, brown eyes muddled with more emotions than Hajime could hope to interpret.

 

“Why do you care?”

 

It’s so unusually blunt for Oikawa that Hajime stares. Ahead of them, Hanamaki and Matsukawa have stopped to see what the hold-up is.

 

Hajime sighs for what feels like the millionth time that night and pulls Oikawa’s arm over his shoulders. Normally he hates that Oikawa has a few centimeters on him, but at the moment it’s rather convenient. Oikawa slumps against him, and Hajime wonders at the familiar warmth.

 

“You’re my teammate, Oikawa. I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says finally.

 

Oikawa seems to contemplate that. “Iwa-chan, are we friends?”

 

Any other time he’d brush Oikawa off and tell him ‘no, Shittykawa, of course we’re not friends’ but tonight there’s something plaintive and infinitely lonely in that question.

 

“Sure Oikawa, we can be friends.”

 

The rest of the walk home is quiet. Hajime and Hanamaki are courteous enough to help Matsukawa wrangle Oikawa up to the apartment and leave him sleeping on his side in his bed.

 

“He’s going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow,” Hanamaki observes with a yawn as he and Hajime finally make it to their own apartment.

 

Hajime hums in agreement. He’s not sure if Oikawa will even remember the back half of the night.

 

“You’re a good person, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki says, pausing in the doorway to his room.

 

“Fireman carrying someone out of a party makes me a good person?” Hajime asks dryly.

 

Hanamaki rolls his eyes. “You almost punched a guy in the teeth for Oikawa.”

 

Hajime is about to protest that he wouldn’t have punched the guy when he realizes that well… maybe he would have. Something protective and fierce had roiled in his gut when the stranger grabbed ahold of Oikawa.

 

Hanamaki nods to himself when Hajime doesn’t answer and goes into his room, closing the door after a murmured ‘goodnight.’

 

Hajime crawls under the sheets, and his dreams are haunted by Oikawa and what could have been.

 

**

 

Oikawa wakes up feeling like he’s been run over by a truck. He’s in his own bed, alone, which is completely the opposite of what he’d planned for last night.

 

Some angel from the heavens (Iwaizumi) left a glass of water and a sports drink on the nightstand. Oikawa has chugged the water and started on the sports drink by the time Matsukawa stumbles in to check on him.

 

“You’re alive,” Matsukawa says, surprised.

 

Oikawa whimpers, “Mattsunnnnn.”

 

Matsukawa, who is normally sympathetic about hangovers, glares at him. Oikawa shrinks back, tugging the covers up to his chin.

 

“I’m mad at you,” Matsukawa announces. “I don’t give a shit who you hook up with, but you almost went home with a probable serial killer last night.”

 

Oikawa waves a dismissive hand. “It can’t have been that bad.”

 

He doesn’t actually remember though, so it’s a weak argument. Matsukawa’s glare intensifies.

 

“Hanamaki and Iwaizumi will back me up. If Iwaizumi hadn’t hauled you out of there last night, I don’t want to know what might have happened.”

 

“Iwa-chan did what?” Oikawa blinks.

 

“Iwaizumi literally threw you over his shoulder and carried you out when you refused to leave with me,” Matsukawa says flatly.

 

That’s… that’s a lot to process. Starting with how drunk was he last night, and ending with how is Iwaizumi strong enough to pull that off.

 

“Oh,” Oikawa says softly.

 

“Yeah, _oh_.” Matsukawa rakes a hand through his short hair. “Listen, Oikawa. I can’t—god I can’t even begin to understand what makes you feel like you need to look for validation in all the wrong places. But please, _please_ don’t get hurt in the process.”

 

Oikawa wants to fight him tooth and nail, to tell him that it’s not his business. But while Oikawa’s bratty and sometimes selfish, Matsukawa has done a lot for him. It’s not fair to throw that back in his face.

 

“I’m sorry, Mattsun.”

 

His mouth tastes sour and it’s not from the lingering taste of alcohol.

 

Matsukawa sinks down on the edge of his bed and Oikawa leans against him.

 

“You’re a mess,” Matsukawa tells him quietly.

 

Oikawa’s laugh in response holds no humor. “I’ve always been a mess.”

 

“Maybe it’s time for a change.”

 

**

 

Oikawa is quiet and introspective for a while after that, focusing almost exclusively on volleyball and school.

 

Hajime can’t explain why it makes him so uneasy.

 

“Are you sure he’s fine?” he asks Matsukawa when he can’t stand it anymore.

 

Matsukawa looks contemplative. “Maybe? It’s hard to tell. When he gets like this he either figures himself out or does something disastrous.”

 

Hajime doesn’t like the sound of ‘something disastrous.’ So when he spots Oikawa doing his schoolwork at one of the tables outside a day later, he doesn’t let himself hesitate as he drops into a seat across from him.

 

Oikawa glances up, something inane on his lips, and then pauses, surprised. “Iwa-chan.”

 

“Oikawa,” Hajime returns, with less bite than usual.

 

There’s something about the way that Oikawa is looking at him that simultaneously sets his teeth on edge and makes his heart thrum in his chest.

 

“Did you need something, Iwa-chan, or are you just here to look at my beautiful face?” Oikawa teases, and the expression is gone, replaced by a smile that Hajime is quickly learning to determine as fake.

 

Refusing to rise to the bait, Hajime taps his fingers on the table. “I came to see if you were okay.”

 

Oikawa gapes at him and Hajime hates the heat that rises in his cheeks.

 

“Jesus, why are you looking at me like that, you idiot? What did you take me for, a heartless troll?” Hajime scoffs.

 

“Yes,” Oikawa says, recovering enough to smirk.

 

“You forget who had to fireman carry you away from a creep.”

 

“Hmm yes, I did forget that Iwa-chan. I’m inclined to think you three made it up entirely,” Oikawa muses.

 

Hajime takes a deep breath and reminds himself why he bothered to sign himself up for this in the first place. “You never did answer my question, Trashykawa.”

 

Oikawa flinches and averts his eyes. “Have I ever been okay?”

 

The words slip out quietly and they weren’t supposed to. Hajime stills, his eyes flickering over Oikawa’s face as he tries to make sense of that.

 

There’s so much to unpack and to worry about, but the only thing that Hajime can think of is how he grew up feeling like something was missing. It’s strange, the feeling hasn’t been as bad since he started university. Like poison being drawn out of a wound, the ache is slowly easing.

 

“One day, you will be,” the words spill out of Hajime the way they seemed to escape from Oikawa: unintended but honest.

 

“Such a philosopher, Iwa-chan. And here I thought you had the higher thinking capabilities of a Neanderthal,” Oikawa says with another one of those fake grins, because this conversation is going places he wishes it wouldn’t and he needs to save face.

 

“Asshole,” Hajime says flatly.

 

Oikawa is deflecting, and Hajime knows he’s deflecting, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Not now. Oikawa is as stubborn as they come and if he doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t.

 

“I have class. See you at practice,” Hajime says as he stands.

  
“Bye Iwa-chan! Try not to miss me too much!” Oikawa waves with that horrible smile.

 

As if.

 

**

 

Matuskawa calls Hajime in a panic.

 

“Iwaizumi, he’s missing.”

 

“What do you mean, he’s missing?” Hajime groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

There’s not even a question as to who he’s referring to. It’s not like Hanamaki runs off or they have, you know, a dog.

 

“I mean that I haven’t seen him since practice and he’s not picking up his phone,” Matsukawa hisses.

 

“Are you sure he’s not just at the gym?”

 

A glance at the clock tells Hajime that being in the gym at near midnight is a little unreasonable.

 

Matsukawa is quiet on the other end. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

 

Hajime thinks that there’s more there than Matsukawa is sharing with him, but he lets it be. “And I suppose you want me to go check because I’m closer to campus?”

 

“Please. I’d owe you one, Iwaizumi.”

 

A sigh. “You don’t owe me anything, Matsukawa. I’ll call you when I find him.”

 

Finding Oikawa isn’t hard at all. When Hajime pushes open the doors to the gym, he’s sitting there hunched over with his leg splayed out in front of him. Hajime realizes it’s the one he wears a brace on.

 

“Oikawa?”

 

His voice rings out in the silence, but Oikawa doesn’t look up.

 

“Go away,” Oikawa says harshly, chin tucked stubbornly to his chest.

 

Hajime’s first instinct is to be annoyed, but it’s quickly chased away by the gut-wrenching feeling that something is horribly wrong. He easily ignores Oikawa’s command and approaches. Oikawa doesn’t scoot back, but Hajime’s beginning to think that it’s because he can’t.

 

Crouching, Hajime tilts his head. “Oikawa talk to me.”

 

Oikawa makes a derisive noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob. “My knee gave out,” he spits the words out with far too much venom.

 

Hajime slides his gaze down to the brace. “Okay,” he says calmly. “Can you stand?”

 

The setter doesn’t seem to hear him. “You’d think I’d learned the first time around,” he says bitterly, as if Hajime hadn’t spoken at all. “One surgery was enough. I can’t… I can’t do it again.”

 

He’s sobbing in earnest now and Hajime feels like he’s been punched in the chest. Seeing Oikawa like this hurts the most essential parts of him, even if he can’t explain exactly why.

 

Hajime takes a breath to steady himself. “Oikawa let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re going to get you home and ice your knee, and then you can see the athletic trainers in the morning.”

 

Oikawa finally looks up, eyes red and puffy, and Hajime can’t help but blurt, “Wow you’re an ugly crier.”

 

The glare he receives for that is ferocious.

 

“Iwa-chan has terrible bedside manners. How are you going to be a physical therapist?”

 

“I don’t think it will be a problem if my patients aren’t you,” Hajime replies, ridiculously glad to get banter thrown back at him. It means that hope is not yet lost.

 

He rocks back on his heels and offers his hands to Oikawa, palms up. Oikawa hesitates before placing his hands in Hajime’s. He has those setter’s fingers, long and slender with all sorts of wonky calluses from playing volleyball. They are nice hands.

 

“On the count of three, I’m going to pull you up, okay? Try not to put any weight on that knee,” Hajime instructs.

 

Oikawa nods tightly, his teeth gritted against the pain. “Just do it.”

 

“Three… two… one,” Hajime counts down and then pulls.

 

There’s a gasp of pain and Oikawa collapses forward against Hajime’s chest before he rights himself, shifting to compensate for the weight the injured knee can’t bear.

 

“What, you’re not going to carry me this time?” Oikawa says breathlessly.

 

“You’re heavy, dumbass. Of course not,” Hajime retorts. “You don’t even remember the first time anyhow. Now just balance here for a second, I’m going to grab your bag.”

 

Oikawa is silent as he wobbles on one leg, watching at Hajime snags his bag. The silence sends a trickle of worry down Hajime’s spine. Nothing good comes out of Oikawa being that quiet.

 

Hajime doesn’t push the issue as he settles Oikawa’s arm across his shoulder. Again. They hobble along together for a bit before Oikawa speaks abruptly.

 

“Thank you. For tonight, and for the last time,” he says, not meeting Hajime’s eyes. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve it but… thank you.”

 

Whatever is going on with Oikawa has nothing to do with Hajime, but he still feels like he has to do something.

 

“Shut up, idiot. You deserve to have friends that look out for you,” Hajime says firmly, and then before Oikawa can contest that, adds, “Speaking of friends, here. Call Matsukawa. He probably thinks you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.”

 

Oikawa takes Hajime’s phone with a shaky hand but dials and holds it to his ear.

 

_“Iwaizumi? Did you find him?”_

 

Oikawa winces at the frantic tone. “Hi Mattsun,” he says quietly.

 

_“Oikawa? Jesus what the hell man. I guess Iwaizumi found you huh.”_

 

“Yeah,” Oikawa sighs, focusing on Hajime’s even breathing rather than the throbbing pain in his knee. “He did.”

 

“Tell him I’m taking you back to Hanamaki and I’s apartment,” Hajime puts in.

 

Oikawa relays this despite his surprise. It makes sense though; Oikawa’s apartment is much farther away.

 

_“Iwaizumi you’re the best,”_ Matsukawa declares even though the man in question can’t hear him.

 

“I’ll call you later, Mattsun,” Oikawa tells him, and hangs up.

 

“Just hold it, I don’t have a free hand at the moment,” Hajime says when Oikawa tries to give his phone back.

 

The rest of the hobble to the apartment is quiet except for Oikawa’s occasional rambling. Hanamaki is already in bed when they make it through the door, so Hajime has no problems sitting Oikawa down on the couch.

 

“Stay,” he tells him and heads for the freezer.

 

“What am I, a dog Iwa-chan?” Oikawa complains.

 

“You’re something.”

 

This is not Oikawa’s first time in the apartment, seeing as Hanamaki and Matsukawa have glued the four of them together. It’s familiar enough to be comforting. Hajime returns with an icepack and an ace wrap.

 

“Take your brace off,” he directs, back to the no nonsense attitude from earlier.

 

Despite the teasing, Oikawa thinks that he’ll make a great physical therapist one day.

 

Taking the brace off is not any fun. Everything hurts as he gingerly tugs it down, but they get it off and Hajime studies his knee. It’s swelling up with a vengeance and Oikawa averts his eyes. He’s cried himself out already, but the panic makes it hard to breathe. Volleyball is everything, and he can’t lose it.

 

“Hey.” Hajime’s steady voice cuts through the haze. “I’m going to wrap the ice pack on. You’re in charge of making sure it stays on for twenty minutes and no longer.”

 

“I know how to ice my knee, silly Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says hollowly, but he checks the time anyway when Hajime finishes wrapping and lets his leg rest on the couch.

 

Hajime produces a mass of pillows to use to prop the knee up, forcing Oikawa to adjust because ‘it should be higher than your heart if you want the swelling to go down, dumbass.’

 

Mercifully he is left alone after that, and Oikawa zones out for a bit while Hajime bustles about the apartment. When the twenty minutes are up, Oikawa is dozing but Hajime is paying enough attention to take the ice pack off and rewrap the knee.

 

He also has a nicer pillow and a blanket tucked under his arm.

 

“I should go home,” Oikawa murmurs.

 

“Oikawa,” Hajime says sternly, and Oikawa finds himself getting lost in green eyes that feel like home.

 

Ah, well, it’s not like he was going to be able to move anyway.

 

“Why are you being nice?” he can’t help but ask as Hajime tucks the pillow behind his head and drops the blanket over him. A glass of water is within reach and Oikawa feels… safe. Cared for.

 

Hajime tries to put a name to whatever this thing is that’s living in his chest, but in the end, he shrugs. “It feels right. Goodnight Oikawa.”

 

It feels right, huh. Oikawa closes his eyes as Hajime turns the lights off and goes to his own bed. Yeah. It kinda does.

 

**

 

Things are different after that. Iwaizumi drags him to the athletic trainers first thing the next morning, and they tell him that his tendonitis is acting up, but it’s nothing a little rest won’t help. Oikawa almost slumps off the table he’s so relieved.

 

Iwaizumi is the biggest mother hen, but he can’t find it in himself to tease about it. Hanamaki and Matsukawa on the other hand, live to give the both of them hell.

 

“Makki is teasing me, make him stop Iwa-channnnn,” Oikawa complains.

 

He’s sprawled out on Iwaizumi’s bed with his textbooks while Iwaizumi works at the desk, hunched over his biology book. Across the hall, Hanamaki is pulling faces even though he’s supposed to be writing a term paper for psychology.

 

“I will kill both of you,” Iwaizumi says flatly.

 

“Mean!” Oikawa protests. “He started it!”

 

Hanamaki just cackles. Iwaizumi takes a breath and counts backwards from ten. It’s like dealing with actual children.

 

“Hanamaki, I know that paper is due at nine tomorrow so shut up and write it. Oikawa… if you can’t be quiet you have to go work in the living room.”

 

“Sure mom,” Hanamaki drawls, and ducks when Iwaizumi hurtles a pencil at him.

 

Oikawa sniffs primly and sticks his nose back into his notebooks.

 

Assholes, the both of them. It’s a small mercy that Matsukawa has a group project and therefore isn’t here to tip the scales and drive Iwaizumi to desperate measures. Oikawa fortunately has the sense to quiet down when Iwaizumi is trying to study in earnest. Being allowed to hang out in Iwaizumi’s room and invade his space is a privilege he would rather not have revoked.

 

It’s one recently earned, since Iwaizumi seems to feel like he needs to watch Oikawa to make sure he doesn’t do anything dumb. There’s something else there though, something that neither of them is quite ready to address.

 

It’s a nagging itch that Oikawa just can’t scratch. But the thing is, he feels better than he has in a long time. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are so close now that they’re nearly a single being, as if they were meant to be together. And Iwaizumi… things are so good when Iwaizumi is an unshakeable presence at his side.

 

Whether it’s on the court or piled onto the couch in Iwaizumi and Hanamaki’s apartment, Oikawa is finally content.

 

And it’s because of Iwaizumi.

 

“Oi, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi drawls. “Phone home, ET.”

 

Oikawa blinks back into the present. “Huh?”

 

“You haven’t turned a page in like, twenty minutes dumbass.”

 

“Oh. Hey, alien jokes aren’t funny Iwa-chan, they’re so old,” Oikawa complains.

 

Iwaizumi shrugs. “They’re new to me. Do your homework, Trashykawa.”

 

“Are you my mom, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa smirks as he stretches luxuriously.

 

“I hate both of you.”

 

“He says that, yet he willingly spends time with us,” Hanamaki commentates from his own room, lilting his voice into something falsely intellectual.

 

“Maybe I’m hoping they’ll grant me sainthood when I die,” Iwaizumi says dryly.

 

Hanamaki wheezes a laugh. “Not a chance in hell.”


	3. We'll Find It Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring some of my Karasuno kids, Kuroo, and Ushijima.

“You look… happy,” Hanamaki says thoughtfully over dinner one evening.

 

Hajime frowns. “What, did I not look happy before this?”

 

The smile Hanamaki offers him is tainted with a wistful kind of sadness. “Not to this extent. There was always something holding you back.”

 

He gives it some thought as he chews. Sure, he never felt warm and fuzzy, but he wasn’t _unhappy_ per say either. Oh, that’s it. Until now, Hajime was just coasting. Huh. Maybe Hanamaki is right.

 

“Speaking of happy… are you and Matsukawa finally dating?” he diverts. That train of thought is something to revisit later when it’s quiet.

 

“Issei and I dating? What?” Hanamaki squawks.

 

Hajime gives him a look and Hanamaki squirms.

 

“Um kind of? Maybe? I don’t really know,” he whines and rests his forehead on the table.

 

“Just ask him out you idiot,” Hajime says, amused.

 

“It’s not that easy!”

 

Eyebrows high, Hajime shakes his head. “Isn’t it? You were practically attached at the hip before you even spoke two words to each other.”

 

Hanamaki sighs, the noise muffled by the elbow he’s wedged his face into. “Do you ever feel like you were meant to connect with someone? Where things just click?”

 

Hajime can’t help it, he thinks of Oikawa. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m so afraid to mess this up, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki says quietly. “He’s amazing.”

 

“And so are you,” Hajime whaps him gently on the back of the head. “Ask him out, I guarantee you he won’t say no.”

 

“If he does say no, will you pay for groceries next week?”

 

“I’ll buy you the largest tub of chocolate ice cream they have if he says no,” Hajime offers.

 

He’s not concerned, there’s no way Matsukawa will say no. They’re stupid about each other.

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Hanamaki jabs a finger at him.

 

Hajime does not end up having buy ice cream, which shocks no one.

 

**

 

“Are you excited, Iwa-chan? It’s our first university tournament!” Oikawa inquires.

 

His voice is deceptively calm, but there’s no mistaking the competitiveness in his expression. It’s slightly terrifying. Iwaizumi, to his disappointment, simply shrugs.

 

“Volleyball is volleyball. That’s what I like the most about it, Trashykawa. It doesn’t matter what the stage is,” Iwaizumi answers.

 

Unlike Oikawa’s tightly maintained control, he seems completely at ease. It’s not fair. Half the time it’s impossible to tell what’s going on under that spiky head of hair.

 

“Will you stretch my knee, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa bats his eyes.

 

“Why don’t you ask Matsukawa? Do I look like your personal assistant?” Iwaizumi grumbles.

 

“Iwa-chan is so mean. I thought you were concerned about my knee?” he says sweetly.

 

Iwaizumi gives him a dead-eyed stare but caves, gesturing for Oikawa to park it so they can go through the stretches the athletic trainers prescribed.

 

“You could to this on your own you know,” Iwaizumi comments as he goes through the motions, practiced and comfortable.

 

Oikawa lets his head loll back so he can stare at the ceiling. “But why would I do that when you’re so much better at it?”

 

He doesn’t even need to look to know that Iwaizumi is rolling his eyes. His reactions and tells are becoming easier to read than a children’s book. Oikawa wonders if he’s just as easily read. It’s frightening.

 

They finish up and warm ups pass quickly. Oikawa starts as the setter, and Iwaizumi is on his right. Hanamaki and Matsukawa aren’t starting this game, though Oikawa doesn’t think it’ll be long before they surpass the upperclassman in their positions.

 

As they get set, Iwaizumi lets out an amused chuckle that Oikawa just barely catches.

  
“Sawamura-san, huh? This should be fun,” he murmurs to himself.

 

Oikawa wants to ask but doesn’t get the opportunity because the game starts. It’s close, they win the first set and lose the second, leaving it to be decided in the third. Iwaizumi chugs through, the most dependable ace Oikawa has had the pleasure of serving to.

 

He gets a bit frustrated with the dude with bedhead and a Cheshire grin blocking his spikes, but they manage to scrape by in the third set, twenty-seven to twenty-five.

 

In the hallway between that match and their next, bedhead and the solid receiver track them down in the hallway.

 

“Iwaizumi-san!” the latter greets, and Oikawa stares as they clasp hands. “I don’t know if you’ve met, but this is Kuroo from Nekoma.”

 

Iwaizumi favors the stranger with a small grin. “Good to see you again Sawamura-san, especially since we won this time. Most of my teammates have wandered off, but this is Oikawa. Don’t mind him.”

 

“Rude, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa complains. “I’m a pleasure.”

 

Iwaizumi snorts. “If that’s what you want to call it, Idiotkawa.”

 

The man with the awful bedhead, Kuroo, busts out laughing. “Ah, a classic setter-ace relationship. Reminds me of Bokuto and Akaashi.”

 

Sawamura makes a put-upon noise while Oikawa tries to figure out what that’s supposed to mean.

 

“We should catch up some time,” Sawamura tells Iwaizumi. “We just wanted to wish you luck with Ushijima in your next match.”

 

Kuroo makes an awful noise but Iwaizumi just nods. “Should be interesting. Tell Sugawara-san I said hello. I thought I saw him in the stands.”

 

Stoic looking Sawamura, to Oikawa’s shock, blushes a furious red.

 

“Ah, you broke him Iwaizumi-san,” Kuroo laughs.

 

Sawamura shoves him and the two of them wave goodbye before resuming their shoving match as they head back to their own team.

 

Oikawa stares after them. “You know some interesting people Iwa-chan.”

 

Iwaizumi arches a brow at him. “I played Sawamura-san’s team a couple times in high school, they’re very good. Nekoma, Kuroo’s team, are their rivals.”

 

“And they’re friends now?” Oikawa says with distaste.

 

“Yeah? They’re teammates now, and that’s all that matters. It’s not an awful rivalry, they did summer training together one year I think,” Iwaizumi shrugs.

 

Oikawa makes a disinterested noise. “Is Ushijima really that big of a problem? We never played his team in high school.”

 

Iwaizumi’s mouth settles into a firm line. “He’s not on the watch list for the national team for nothing, but he’s not unbeatable. Karasuno managed it last year, which means we can too.” 

 

Ushijima, naturally, plays for the best university in Japan. It’s unfortunate that his team is their second match in the tournament.

 

Oikawa’s first impression of Ushijima is that he absolutely loathes him. It doesn’t get better after that. They lose the first set by more than Oikawa would like, and he spends most of the time between sets figuring out how to break the other team. Iwaizumi sticks close to him, a grumpy shadow who elbows Oikawa any time his ‘awful personality’ comes on too strong.

 

It helps, they go to deuces too many times in the second set but pull through. The third set though… the third set is hell.

 

By all logic, Ushijima should be less powerful after two sets as he tires. When Oikawa mentions this to Iwaizumi, he gets a headshake, ‘Ushijima gets better as the match goes on.’

 

And god, does he. By the time the match is over Oikawa isn’t sure if it’s exhaustion or fury that’s making him tremble. As they shake hands under the net, Ushijima looks him dead in the eye.

 

“You should be playing with us, your talent is wasted there,” he says in a deep rumble, moving on before Oikawa can give him the tongue lashing of his life.

 

He spends the post-game cooldown and time changing in a furious haze. Matsukawa is watching him, he can feel the familiar gaze burn into the back of his head, but he says nothing. Iwaizumi is the only one to come near him, dropping a hand on his shoulder before he gathers the equipment.

 

Oikawa prays that no one sits next to him on the bus. He’s not that lucky, nor should he have expected to be. Hanamaki and Matsukawa sit in front of him, using each other as convenient boyfriend pillows, and Iwaizumi claims the seat beside him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi apologizes out of the blue when the bus is moving and most people are asleep. “I failed as an ace, and as a teammate. If I had known we were playing them today, I would have found his game film from the Karasuno match.”

 

Unable to help it, Oikawa finds himself laughing. It’s not humorous, just disbelieving.

 

“How cocky of you, Iwa-chan, to take sole responsibility for a loss,” he says, tone sharp as razors.

 

Iwaizumi shrugs, his brow furrowed. “I’m the ace, it’s my job to score points. And there’s a way to beat Ushijima, Karasuno figured it out once.”

 

“Shut up, Iwa-chan.” That earns him a death glare. “If you weren’t scoring, it was because I wasn’t setting things well enough for you.”

 

“Oh, so you’re allowed to be self-deprecating but I’m not?” Iwaizumi retorts, but it lacks bite.

 

Oikawa scowls. “I hate him.”

 

“Ushijima?”

 

“He told me my talent is wasted here,” Oikawa says bitterly. “Who does he think he is?”

 

Iwaizumi’s smile is cutting. “He’s wrong, and we’ll show him next time.”

 

“Yeah?” Oikawa meets those green eyes that sing of home, and sees the promise reflected back at him.

 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi gives his shoulder a solid bump, and only grumbles a little when Oikawa claims that same shoulder as his personal pillow for the rest of the ride.

 

Iwaizumi really does have nice arm muscles.

 

**

 

A camp for prospective students is held on one of their bi weekends.

 

Hajime is startled to see two familiar faces in the huddle of nervous high school students.

 

“Kageyama-san,” he blurts.

 

Kageyama looks up, his expression smoothing out as he recognizes Iwaizumi. “Iwaizumi-senpai,” he greets politely.

 

At his side, his orange-haired companion is practically vibrating with excitement.

 

With an impressive eyeroll, Kageyama inclines his head toward his friend. “If you didn’t already know, this is Hinata Shouyou. You remember him from our match I’m sure.”

 

As if Iwaizumi could forget that freak quick or the fact that the orange-haired boy can jump higher than his small frame should allow.

 

“Hi Iwaizumi-senpai! Nice to meet you!” Hinata says brightly.

 

“Iwa-chan, are you scaring the children?” Oikawa sing songs as he comes over to investigate.

 

“Shut up, Asskawa. Kageyama was my kouhai in junior high. He plays for Karasuno,” Hajime says.

 

The headache is already brewing as Oikawa eyes up Kageyama. This is a meeting that Hajime never wanted to happen for a list of reasons so long he can’t find the bottom.

 

“What position do you play, Kageyama-san? And you, Shrimp-chan?”

 

Hinata immediately takes offense to the Shrimp-chan, as expected. He bounces up and down with that impressive vertical jump of his. “Hey! I’m not that short!”

 

Kageyama ignores him with practiced precision. “I’m a setter, Hinata is a middle blocker,” he answers calmly, though there’s a glint in his steely blue eyes.

 

Oikawa scoffs. “Shrimp-chan is a middle blocker?”  
  


“I’m going to be Karasuno’s ace,” Hinata insists, going from puppy eyes to a fierce glare.

 

Kageyama hasn’t said anything, but Hajime knows that it’s a dangerous zone. While he fights with Hinata a lot, Kageyama is even more likely to fight someone on Hinata’s behalf.

 

Time to diffuse the situation.

 

“We’re going now. I’ll see you both later,” Hajime says evenly.

 

Oikawa protests, but he has no choice with Hajime hauling him along. Hajime stops when they’re finally a safe distance away.

 

“Listen here, Shittykawa. I know you have your weird way of dealing with things, but don’t pick fights with kids. Kageyama is the best high school setter in the prefecture, if not beyond that, and he’s a good kid.”

 

The look that he receives from Oikawa is unreadable, and it sets his teeth on edge.

 

“Mattsun!” Oikawa calls with his feigned cheer and darts off before Hajime can say anything else.

 

Hanamaki finds him as they’re setting up drills. “How bad do you think it’s gonna be when Oikawa realizes how good a setter Kageyama is?”

 

Hajime closes his lips around a sigh. “I don’t know.”

 

It starts out okay, but once Oikawa realizes Kageyama is a natural genius, things start to downslide. Hajime does his best, but he can’t help but feel bad for both of them. Oikawa has worked very hard to get where he is, and Hajime is more invested in his happiness than ever intended. On the other hand, as far as Hajime can tell, Kageyama earnestly respects and wants to learn from Oikawa.

 

These things do not mix well. When it all comes to a head, Hajime drags Oikawa into the equipment room to cool off.

 

“Listen, you idiot. Stop letting some kid’s natural genius bother you. Both of you are excellent setters.”

 

Oikawa bares his teeth and Hajime just knows he’s trying not to cry. “He had everything I’ve worked for just fall into his lap, Iwa-chan. How am I supposed to be okay with that?”

 

Hajime’s chest aches, and he’s careful when he chooses his words. “Oikawa. You are the best setter I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. I understand it’s frustrating, but you should take credit for the heart and soul you’ve put into this sport. You deserve to.”

 

Frustration is still crackling over Oikawa, but he takes a breath, and then another.

 

“Iwa-chan?”

 

“Hmmmm?” Hajime hums.

 

He gets his answer in the form of Oikawa’s gangly form crashing into him in the most discombobulated hug of his life. It’s too easy to hug him back, to breathe in the shampoo smell that’s become familiar. He lets Oikawa stay there as long as he needs, sapping strength and comfort.

 

Hajime finds that he _likes_ hugging Oikawa and is almost reluctant to let him go when Oikawa finally steps back.

 

“Don’t think this means anything, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says thickly, already shaking off his breakdown and squaring his shoulders.

 

“Do your best, Oikawa,” is all Hajime can manage in response.

 

**

 

Hajime pulls his phone towards him across the desk when it starts ringing with that awful alien tune Oikawa made his ring tone.

 

“What?” he sighs into the phone. He has a lab report due in two days and it’s getting late.

 

_“Are you home right now?_ ”

 

The rasp in Oikawa’s voice sounds as if he’s been crying. Hajime tightens his grip on his pencil, all thoughts of telling Oikawa to screw off evaporating.

  
“Yeah, come on over.”

 

_“Thank you.”_

 

The Oikawa that shows up at the door is nothing like the one Hajime is used to seeing on a daily basis. He has his glasses on and his hood pulled up over his head when Hajime admits him into the apartment.

 

He slides his shoes off and makes a beeline for Hajime’s bed, burying himself under the covers. Only a tuft of his soft brown hair is visible. Hajime sinks down onto his desk chair, acknowledging the fact that he’s probably not going to get much more work done tonight.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

 

The ‘no’ that Oikawa gets out is muffled and too quiet. Hajime presses his lips together, eyeing the work he needs to get done and the sad lump in his bed. Resigned, he pads into the kitchen and gets a glass of water, which he leaves on the desk. Oikawa will want it later.

 

He gathers up his work and sits on the edge of the bed. “Scoot over,” he tells Oikawa, who reluctantly allows him enough space to sit with his back to the wall and his homework in his lap.

 

Hajime buckles back down on his homework, though he’s fully aware of Oikawa inching closer and closer.

 

“It’s fine, idiot,” he grumbles, and instantly an arm is slung around his waist and Oikawa’s face is hidden in his side.

 

It’s not the most comfortable position to be doing homework in, but Hajime manages. His free hand finds its way into Oikawa’s hair, toying with the silky locks as he powers through the last of this stupid pre-lab.

 

Oikawa is silent and still even as Hajime stretches to set his completed work on the desk.

 

“Hey,” Hajime says softly, giving Oikawa a gentle nudge.

 

He gets a stubborn whine in response as Oikawa presses his nose so persistently into Hajime’s side that Hajime’s sure he’s squishing his kidney.

 

“Hey,” he repeats. “I’m not going to make you talk, but you should at least drink some water and get ready for bed.”

 

Oikawa pulls back, and Hajime takes the opportunity to grab the glass of water and press it into his hands. The setter is giving him a reproachful look over the rim of the glass.

 

Hajime pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not kicking you out. Just drink your water and then actually make some room for me.”

 

Wide eyes stare at him, but for once Oikawa actually does what he’s told.

 

He’s not sure why he’s allowing it, but he lets Oikawa sleep in his bed instead of out on the couch. The thought of Oikawa sleeping on the couch by himself sends a pang through his chest and he can’t make himself kick him out. There’s something quiet and sad clinging to his friend.

 

At the moment, Oikawa is hogging most of the blankets and has them pulled up to his chin, his puffy eyes squished shut.

 

“Goodnight, Oikawa,” Hajime sighs, settling his head on the pillow.

 

Things quiet and Hajime hears a whispered, “Goodnight Iwa-chan.”

 

Hajime listens to the soft noises that break the silence and sighs, shifting onto his side. He can still hear the slight hitch in Oikawa’s breathing.

 

“Come here,” he says into the stillness.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Just… don’t be an idiot,” Hajime huffs. How do you tell your best friend you’re okay with him using you as a pillow?

 

Mercifully Oikawa’s desire for physical contact trumps both their of their awkwardness. He scoots closer until his back is pressed up against Hajime’s chest. Hajime hesitates a moment before letting his arm drape across Oikawa.

 

“Aren’t you too short to be the big spoon, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa mumbles sleepily.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Oikawa’s soft hair tickles his nose, and two people in the bed means Hajime is at his mercy, but it seems to help. That’s all he needs.

 

Hajime wakes first, and it’s to a warm weight pinning him to the mattress. Oikawa’s head is on his chest and he has a leg thrown across both of Hajime’s. He should move, he knows he should move, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

 

Closing his eyes, he lets the sensation wash over him. It feels like déjà vu even though Hajime has never really dabbled with relationships. It feels like déjà vu because it’s Oikawa. He shouldn’t feel like this with his friend sleeping on him, but his heart can’t help it.

 

“Do you feel it too?” Oikawa whispers sleepily when he finally comes to.

 

“Yeah.”

 

It’s a mercurial moment, one that Hajime knows will be over as soon as he moves. Unfortunately, his alarm is blaring, and he has lab in an hour.

 

“Alright, off you lug,” he says, reverting to teasing to smooth over the awkwardness that might manifest when they both fully wake up.

 

“You’re lucky to have such a beautiful person in your bed, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa grumbles sleepily.

 

Hajime peels him off. “I have lab, asshole. I’m going to be late.”

 

Oikawa whines at a volume that makes Hajime want to smack him, but it’s easier to just throw on a pair of jeans and retreat from the room. The latter emerges after Hajime has tea made, his hair sticking up in all directions.

 

“Go back to bed until your class, you haven’t been sleeping enough,” Hajime says firmly.

 

To his surprise, Oikawa doesn’t protest. The last thing he sees before he departs for lab is that mass of bedhead disappearing back into his room. It’s too good of a feeling.

 

Oikawa sleeping in his bed becomes commonplace after that. Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s relationship is just a convenient excuse.

 

‘They’re screwing again Iwa-chan, grosssss,’ is the most frequently used complaint, but Oikawa has a whole slew of reasons why Hajime’s bed is better than is.  Hajime, who has no interest in knowing anything about his best friends’ sex lives, sighs and lets Oikawa take over his entire life.

 

He can’t quite pin down the deeper reasoning behind it though. Is Oikawa just using him as a source of comfort, or does he have feelings not far off from what Hajime has been trying to avoid lately? He’s never felt like this about anyone in his entire life and it is _scary._

 


	4. Home At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the end!

They’re messing around one night, sprawled out in Matsukawa and Oikawa’s apartment after a grueling practice.

 

“Imagine if we’d all gotten to play together in high school,” Hanamaki sighs wistfully. “We would have been unstoppable.”

 

“I almost moved to Miyagi when I was little, you know,” Oikawa says conversationally. “We had a house picked out and everything.”

 

Hajime remains quiet, but Hanamaki sits up. “Really? What did it look like? Maybe I know of it.”

 

It’s unlikely, a longshot against all odds, but Oikawa describes it anyway. Something tickles at the back of Hajime’s mind, but it isn’t until Oikawa also describes the house that sat right next to it that Hanamaki starts flapping his hands.  

 

“That sounds like Iwaizumi’s house!”

 

Matsukawa makes a surprised noise and all three of them look to Hajime.

 

And Hajime remembers. Remembers that there was supposed to be a boy his age moving in next door, a prospect that he had been ecstatic about. That a sudden tragedy ruined all of that.

 

It hits Hajime like a truck, stealing every bit of air out of his lungs. _I should have known you my entire life_.

 

The warm press of Oikawa leaning into his shoulder brings him back to reality.

 

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah that sounds exactly like my house.”

 

“My dad died in an accident, so we moved in with my grandparents instead,” Oikawa says, and turns a too wide smile, extremely false on Hajime. “But imagine, Iwa-chan. We would have been best friends!”

 

Hajime can’t even argue with that because they would have. He would have dragged Oikawa out to catch bugs, and in return would have been forced to sit through ever alien movie known to man. Is it unreasonable to miss a childhood he never had?

 

Matsukawa, talented at reading a room, breaks the tension. “I’m getting some water, anyone else want anything?”

 

Hanamaki chimes in with a request, and the gloomy feel retreats from the room to live in Hajime’s chest. Oikawa stays close to him the rest of the night, but Hajime can’t banish the frown creasing his brow. He wishes Hanamaki had never brought it up. It’s worse somehow, knowing what almost was.

 

His childhood would have been very different, had he shared it with Oikawa Tooru.

 

**

 

Exam season hits hard, especially for Iwaizumi. He’s quiet about the stress, preferring to internalize it rather than complain incessantly like Oikawa does. Oikawa can tell though, that the strain is pushing him to the limit.

 

He’s less vocal during the practices leading up to his major biology exam, and Oikawa makes the effort to not press his buttons if he can help it. It’s not much, but it feels better than doing nothing.

 

“The exam is tomorrow, right?” Oikawa asks Hanamaki, pitching his voice low.

 

They’re both watching as Iwaizumi showers and bolts out of the locker room in record time, likely to get back to studying as soon as possible.

 

Hanamaki sighs. “Yeah. I feel bad, I have mostly papers and so does Issei. From what I understand, a lot of people tend to do badly on this exam.”

 

Oikawa purses his lips as he watches the door swing shut after Iwaizumi. Matsukawa joins them, slinging an arm over Hanamaki’s shoulders.

 

“Coming back to my place, babe?” he purrs into Hanamaki’s ear.

 

“Yes, but you’re going to let me finish my paper. I know you have a project due too,” Hanamaki replies.

 

Matsukawa huffs. “I hate it when you’re right. Homework support circle with us Oikawa?”

 

Oikawa almost says no, and then remembers that the point of this is to allow Iwaizumi to have the apartment to study. “No canoodling within my sight or hearing,” he scowls at them. “I mean it Mattsun, there’s only so many times I want to be scarred for life.”

 

Matsukawa gives him one of those slow, sleepy smiles that promises trouble. Hanamaki elbows him until he starts whining and Oikawa takes that as his cue to grab his stuff.

 

The three of them walk back together and sprawl out all over the living room of the apartment. They manage to work in silence for an impressive amount of time before Matsukawa sets his laptop aside and stretches.

 

“So Oikawa…” he drawls, and Oikawa instinctively stiffens.

 

“What do you want, you heathen?” Oikawa sighs.

 

He looks up and finds both of them staring at him. It’s an uncanny thing that they do as a couple, especially when they use it for an interrogation.

 

“How long until you stop dancing around Iwaizumi and ask him out?” Hanamaki asks smoothly.

 

Oikawa narrows his eyes. “Did you assholes plan to tag-team interrogate me?”

 

They glance at each other and shrug.

 

“You’re avoiding the question, Oikawa.” Matsukawa says, and Oikawa immediately knows there’s no way out of this.

 

With a soft hum, Oikawa sets his study materials aside and drags a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”

 

“Why wouldn’t you? You act like you’re dating already, just without the kissing,” Hanamaki complains.

 

Matsukawa shoots him a look before focusing on Oikawa.

 

“You know me, Mattsun,” Oikawa says quietly. “I’ve never done commitment well. My relationship with him is important to me and I can’t stand to lose it.”

 

“I think this is a little different, Oikawa,” Matsukawa says kindly. “I can’t be the only one seeing the big ass clues the universe is giving you.”

 

Hanamaki nods. “And it’s not like he doesn’t feel the same way about you.”

 

Oikawa whips his head around to stare at Hanamaki, who makes a face.

 

“Not that he ever says as much, but he’s easy enough to read. He lets you sleep in his bed with him, for gods sakes,” Hanamaki says. “He’d make my ass sleep on the floor.”

 

“I wouldn’t make that ass sleep on the floor,” Matsukawa says with a wink, and Oikawa mimes gagging.

 

“The point is, you like each other, and you should do something about it,” Hanamaki valiantly finishes his thought. “Seriously, you were meant to be together I guarantee it.”

 

Oikawa drags a hand through his hair, which is still damp from his shower. “I’ll think about it. Now is not really a great time for either of us.”

 

“Then wait till exams are over and talk to him after. But do it, Oikawa. We don’t want to watch either of you pine,” Matsukawa insists.

 

“So bossy,” Oikawa mutters.

 

**

 

Hajime trudges through the door after his exam to find Oikawa on his couch. Hanamaki is nowhere to be seen, but Oikawa is looking at him expectantly. There’s a mound of blankets piled up and a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

 

“Welcome home, Iwa-chan!”

 

“How did you get in here?” Hajime sighs.

 

At this point he should just have a key made for Oikawa. He’s fairly certain Hanamaki has one for the other apartment.

 

Oikawa pouts. “Why do you have to be rude, Iwa-chan? Aren’t you happy to see my beautiful face? Makki let me in.”

 

Of course he did. Hajime slides his shoes off and drops his backpack by the door to his bedroom. He gives his bed a longing look as Oikawa twists around on the couch to watch him.

 

“Iwa-chan, come sit,” Oikawa says.

 

It contains Oikawa’s usual commanding lilt, which while on most days Hajime can handle it, today he’s exhausted beyond reason. The exam is done and he’s mostly free of this semester’s classes, but the past week has sucked the life out of him.

 

“You’re not the boss of me, Idiotkawa. I really just want to go to bed.”

 

“Do you trust me?” Oikawa asks, suddenly serious.

 

“Yes,” is the unhesitating answer.

 

“Then sit.”

 

Hajime knows it’s not worth resisting when Oikawa gets set on something, so he sinks down on the couch in the space left for him. Immediately Oikawa dumps blankets in his lap and passes over the popcorn. On autopilot, Hajime pops a handful of it into his mouth as Oikawa fiddles with the remote.

 

He’s leaning forward, the poor lighting in the apartment accenting the delicate lines of his cheekbones. Hajime observes the soft curve of his mouth, pulled up at one corner in the way he tends to when he’s focused on something.

 

Oikawa hits play, sitting back as a familiar intro song teases a small smile onto Hajime’s lips. Godzilla. Just what Hajime needed after that exam. It’s amazing, Oikawa’s ability to retain little details that Hajime has only shared in passing. Hajime presses his knee against the setter’s in a silent thank you.

 

There is no better way to end a hellish week. Oikawa makes comments here and here, leaning into Hajime when he makes a particularly funny retort, until he eventually just stays there.

 

Hajime must fall asleep at some point, because Oikawa rouses him gently from where his head was nestled on Oikawa’s shoulder. He hopes he didn’t drool, he’d never live it down.

 

“You should sleep in an actual bed,” Oikawa murmurs, taking the popcorn bowl and setting it aside.

 

He is very right about that. Getting up is a chore, but Hajime drags himself up in one massive effort. He holds a hand out to Oikawa, who’s watching him with something soft in his eyes.

 

“You coming, dumbass?”

 

“Rude, Iwa-chan,” is the answering huff, but Oikawa’s flaming cheeks give him away as slender fingers tangle with Hajime’s.

 

Hajime is too tired to have any inhibitions, so he simply tugs Oikawa along to his room, shucking unnecessary clothes items before he collapses into bed. Oikawa is a little slower, enough so that Hajime grumbles a complaint. After too many days of too little sleep, he’s impatient to shut his brain off for a good long while.

 

Oikawa finally slides in next to him, clumsy in the dark, and their faces end up so close that their noses are nearly touching. Unthinking, Hajime tilts his head until their foreheads are pressing together. Oikawa sucks in a startled breath, and all Hajime wants is to be able to have this all the time. To be able to close that sliver of a gap and kiss the lips that spend so much time teasing him.

 

“Hey Oikawa,” he whispers, because even half asleep he doesn’t kiss people without permission.

 

Oikawa gives a breathless laugh in response, featherlight and full of delighted disbelief.

 

“Not now, Iwa-chan. We can talk about it in the morning, you’re in serious need of sleep.”

 

Hajime makes a sound that’s about as close as he gets to whining but pulls back enough that he can drag Oikawa in to snuggle.  
  
“Promise?”

 

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Iwa-chan.”

 

Hajime smiles into the darkness as their legs tangle under the covers. Both their faces are painted red, but the night keeps its secrets.

 

Tomorrow is as good of a promise as he could have ever hoped for.

 

**

 

Oikawa wakes first, which is something never happens. Iwaizumi’s head is pillowed on his chest, that spiky dark hair brushing the underside of his chin in a pleasant way. The moment is nearly too perfect to be real. His mind snags on that thought and spins into overdrive before he’s even fully awake.

 

Last night wasn’t a dream, was it? He’s dreamt about Iwaizumi more often than he cares to admit and has certainly dreamt about kissing him.

 

Oikawa doesn’t know if he can handle this casual intimacy just now if nearly kissing Iwaizumi was a figment of his imagination. His heart rate must accelerate because before he can work himself into a panic, Iwaizumi is squinting up at him sleepily.

 

“Are you okay?” he mumbles, his jaw stretching in a yawn.

 

“Just dandy!” Oikawa says, voice a touch too strangled to be believable.

 

Iwaizumi is fully awake almost instantly, brows furrowing into a concerned frown. “Oikawa, what’s wrong?”

 

Face hot, Oikawa attempts to drag the blanket over his face but Iwaizumi gently pries it out of his grip, most of his weight propped up on his elbow.

 

“Oikawa,” he says more insistently. “I’m not going to play tug of war with you before coffee. Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Oikawa wants to run. Or spontaneously combust. Anything that would get him out of this. Green eyes pierce into his soul and he finds it all spilling off his tongue anyway.

 

“Would you have kissed me last night?” It comes out in a nearly unintelligible jumble and Oikawa’s face gets even redder.

 

Iwaizumi must understand his blabber, because his face turns a matching shade. There’s a loaded pause, but Iwaizumi doesn’t budge.

 

“Yes,” he says finally, and the decisiveness of it sends a thrill up Oikawa’s spine. “If you had let me.”

 

Oikawa’s relief manifests in a helpless giggle. “Oh thank god, I thought that might have been a dream.”

 

Iwaizumi arches an eyebrow at him. “Was that why you were freaking out, you idiot?”

 

“I’m not an idiot, Iwa-chan,” he complains. “You’re supposed to say, ‘oh, you like me too Oikawa-san? I’m so honored.’”

 

Iwaizumi flicks his forehead, eliciting a whine, but he’s smiling. “I do _like_ like you, even if you are a self-absorbed idiot.”

 

“You’re supposed to be getting better at this, not worse, Iwa-chan.”

 

“Screw you, Trashykawa.”

 

“Tooru,” Oikawa corrects. “You should call me Tooru.”

 

Iwaizumi is momentarily stunned, and when he recovers, says quietly, “Then you should call me Hajime when it’s just us.”

 

Oikawa’s lips curve into an earnest smile. “Can I kiss you, Hajime?”

 

“Please.”

 

There’s some awkward rearranging of limbs, but Oikawa leans in. The moment their lips brush, Oikawa feels as if he’s been hurtled out of his own body. Images, sensations, things he can’t comprehend flash through him before he can grasp hold of them. It’s disorienting and familiar at the same time, and through it all a familiar presence stays with him.

 

He pulls back and finds his emotions mirrored on Iwaizumi’s stunned face.

 

“What the hell was that?” Iwaizumi breathes, his pupils blown wide.

 

“You felt it too?” Oikawa asks, relieved.

 

A nod, and then with hesitance uncharacteristic of him, Iwaizumi murmurs, “Wanna try again?”

 

He finds the answer in Oikawa’s expression and this time Iwaizumi moves first. When their lips slide together this time, it’s a normal sort of mind-blowing. Oikawa nearly loses himself in the kiss and has to remind himself that thoroughly conquering Iwaizumi’s mouth on the first go is probably a little much.

 

They separate again, and Iwaizumi sneaks a peck onto his cheek.

 

“I’m not really sure what that was,” Iwaizumi says quietly. “But it’s still pretty early. Want to go back to sleep?”

 

“Only if you kiss me some more first,” Oikawa replies with a mischievous smile. He’d rather not worry about the strange stuff right now, best to enjoy this moment as it is.

 

“Brat.”  
  


“ _Your_ brat,” Oikawa reminds him, and Iwaizumi chuckles before using his mouth to end the discussion a different way.

 

**

 

The first time Hanamaki and Matsukawa catch them kissing is far more dramatic than it needs to be.

 

They’re tangled up on the couch in Iwaizumi’s apartment exchanging slow, exploratory kisses when the door busts open. Oikawa, who is perched in Iwaizumi’s lap, nearly topples onto the floor. Iwaizumi hisses out several choice cuss words, shooting Hanamaki a look over the back of the couch.

 

Hanamaki smiles back angelically.

 

“I knew you guys finally figured it out and started dating but it could never prepare me to walk in on you making out on the couch,” Matsukawa says conversationally.

 

Oikawa, who’s hanging on with his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, glares.

 

“You don’t even live here,” Iwaizumi grumbles.

 

“Hmmm but I do,” Hanamaki chimes in, all innocence. “You should start leaving a sock on the door or something.”

 

“We were only kissing!” Iwaizumi protests as Oikawa pouts into his neck. “I suffered through how many months of this with you guys? I call bullshit.”

 

Matsukawa glances at Hanamaki. “We were never bad about PDA, were we?”

 

“You were the worst,” Oikawa interjects, eyes narrowed. “How many times did I catch you getting busy on the couch _I_ bought?”

 

Hanamaki has grace enough to look sheepish, but Matsukawa just smiles wide. Iwaizumi strokes a hand down Oikawa’s spine, making him squirm.

 

“Anyway,” Iwaizumi casually changes the subject. “I hope you guys brought the takeout? I might forgive you if you did.”

 

“I can’t believe you doubted me,” Hanamaki complains as he waggles the bag in the air for Iwaizumi to see.

 

“Yeah yeah,” Iwaizumi waves a hand at him, and begins the process of freeing himself from Oikawa’s grasp.

  
“You got my favorite, right?” Oikawa whines when he’s booted off Iwaizumi’s lap, shuffling into the kitchen to have a look.

 

“Absolutely not,” Matsukawa deadpans, just to hear Oikawa’s wail of despair.

 

“Both of you are horrible,” Iwaizumi scolds as he joins them in the kitchen, fishing out Oikawa’s preferred order and pressing it into his hands. “Stop whining, Trashykawa, they’re just messing with you.”

 

Oikawa spends the rest of the night trying to get revenge by beating them in every single video game. He’s only somewhat successful, but Iwaizumi lets him sit in his lap, so it’s a win never the less.

 

**

 

“Hajime?”

 

“Hmmm?” Hajime looks up from his homework to where Oikawa is working on his bed.

 

This set up has become habit for them over the last several months. They have a major tournament coming up, with an opportunity to get back at Ushijima and his team, and they spend nearly as much time playing volleyball as they do studying. Still, Oikawa has had some sort of side project going on that he refuses to tell Hajime about.

  
“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Oikawa asks.

 

It’s an odd question, phrased casually, but Hajime can feel his piercing gaze. This is important, even if Oikawa doesn’t want him to think it is.

 

“Is that what you’ve been secretly researching? I never really thought that much about the afterlife, honestly. I’ve been too busy trying to live the one I’m in right now,” Hajime shrugs.

 

Oikawa clicks his tongue, tracing a line in the book he’s reading with an index finger. He thinks of all the times when the déjà vu was enough to make him pause, and how the voice in his head that tells him not to do something stupid has always sounded a lot like Hajime.

 

“Remember that weird thing that happened when we kissed? I saw all these people and I think… I think they were me. Past me. But there was someone else too,” Oikawa says thoughtfully.

 

Hajime sets his pen down and closes his eyes, trying to recall the moment himself. It was fleeting and surreal, but he thinks he understands what Oikawa is talking about.

 

“You think that besides seeing our past selves, we also saw each other? As if we’ve been together in other lifetimes?”

 

“Is that crazy?” Oikawa laughs nervously.

 

He’s been afraid of broaching this idea to sensible, no nonsense Hajime. What if he does think he’s crazy? Oikawa can’t lose him, it’d be like losing a piece of himself that he’s only just found.

 

“Tooru,” Hajime says gently, leaning over in his chair to rest a comforting hand on Oikawa’s knee. “When you think about it, maybe it isn’t. I never felt quite whole until I met you.”

 

“You made things better for me too,” Oikawa admits quietly, lifting his chin so that their eyes meet.

 

Hajime smiles, soft and affectionate. “I guess that means I’ve loved you for a very long time.”

 

Oikawa stares at the use of the word ‘love,’ something that they’ve implied but never quite spoken, and then breaks into a smile.

 

“I love you too, Hajime. In this lifetime and all others.”

 

“Is that a promise?”

 

“You bet it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to yell at me on tumblr @carry-a-world I don't bite ;)


End file.
